


Strange Bedfellows

by JoAsakura



Series: Shine on, you Crazy Snowflake (DMC) [1]
Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-05-10
Updated: 2005-05-10
Packaged: 2017-10-03 04:31:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,804
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JoAsakura/pseuds/JoAsakura
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes, a novice devil hunter finds allies in the strangest places.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

There was this sound.

Like a tyre leaking into a puddle, wet and wheezy and it was pissing Dante off.

When he coughed up a gout of copper-tasting blood and mucous, it pissed him off that much further, because he realized it was his chest making that noise.

(ah, goddamnit)

He tried to blink and look around, the smell of rotting leaves and human waste rich in his nose, but everything was black. Cursing inwardly, he squeezed his eyes shut for a moment and then delicately prodded. There was the faint twingey-itching of accelerated healing going on and he sighed. (great.)

The fuckers had taken his eyes.

He hurt in too many places to count, growing exponentially by the moment. That, at least, was good news. The pain sputtering as nerve and tissue forced itself back together.

Listening to his own raspy breathing and the wet scuddering sounds around him, Dante ruminated on what got him into this particular spot.

~~~~~  
Two Hours Before:

There was a point where the fledgling demon hunter had realized that while long on courage and ambition, he was short on actual devil-hunting practical experience.

Despite the fact that he was ridiculously strong and resilient, he was getting his ass kicked by the serpent-headed, baboon-assed bat-creatures he'd tracked from the Port Authority bus terminal to North Harlem.

Bravado had gotten him fairly far, but as he ate a faceful of concrete, the understanding that he had no idea how to kill these things with just the help of a 12-guage and Dad's sword sank in with a sick thrill.

They were too fast, and as far as the shotgun went, he probably could've spit at them with roughly the same measure of success.

There was a horrible pain as talons punched through his back and out his chest and he heard the Dark Speech as they started discussing how his little half-breed eyeballs would taste.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

(fuckers.) It took too much energy to try and move, so he continued to sit there, feeling the cold and wet soak through his leathers. (stupid, stupid, stupid!!)

Next time, their asses were his, but the burning ambition did nothing to speed along the incessant itching in his lungs and his eye sockets. (fuck.)

He was debating getting upright when he heard the sounds of a car, human speech, and footsteps in the wet.

It was a measure of how fucked-up his evening had been that he didn't know if it were safe to call out, or if he should just sit there and heal in the fetid water.

There was a splash, the sound of dead weight dropping into the sludge, and men's rough laughter. Dante sniffed, catching the smell of human blood and put a string of logic together that was interrupted when the itching and wheezing in his lungs forced another bloody cough.

The men stopped their laughter and Dante cursed. He was not in the mood... or the shape, if he were going to be honest, for another fight. even if it WERE with a couple of humans.

Too much effort to get up. If they shot him, it wasn't like it was going to make things any worse, considering.

"Geezus, somebody dumped a kid down here." One voice, rough and stinking of Grappa and cubans.

"C'mon, man. Before the little punk can make an ID." Another voice, reedy and tense.

"Ffffuck offf." Dante wheezed at them both. (fuckers. just dump your damn body and get lost.)

The rough voice laughed. "Tough little bastard, aint'cha, kiddo?" A pause and a sharp suck in of breath. "Jesus Christ. Kid's got no eyes."

"Christ, Enzo, Enough with Florence-Fucking-Nightingale already. We gotta get moving." Reedy barked, and there was the sound of turning footsteps. "Punk's so fucked up, he's gonna die soon, anyways."

"Shut the fuck up, Dom. Dumpin' Big Pussy over there was one thing, I ain't leaving a kid down here." And big hands were around him, lifting.

"Fuck.. the fuck.. off." Dante coughed again, feeling a wet thread of blood at the corner of his mouth. "'Mokay." His back and hips screamed as the big man... he read as big in Dante's other senses... hauled him upright. (stupid frigging slow healing factor. stupid monkey ass demons. stupid mafia.)

There was another intake of breath and his unwanted rescuer dipped down. "Fancy pig-poker you got here, Junior." The smelly voice said close to his ear.

Dante coughed again and tried to muster up enough oxygen in his damaged lungs to curse some more, but it wasn't there. "No hospital." he whispered. "please."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He was having a dream about being in the hospital again, his veins healing shut around their needles as the nurses tried to pull samples of his unmatchable blood type. He really hated that dream.

He woke with a start and a cough and the realization that his lungs were almost right again and there was dim light visible through the weight of the fabric wrapped around his face. (...the hell?)

The bed was soft and stank of cigars and Drakkar Noir. Inwardly, Dante cringed. Stinky voice. Enzo? Whatever. Great.

"Well, well, if it ain't snow white wakin' up." The sudden closeness of the voice made Dante jump and swear. "Good morning t' you too, snowflake." The bulky sillhouette in his sparse vision said.

"Sorry." Dante said in a tone that implied he wasn't. "I've had a bad day."

"Yeah, I kinda got that." A calloused hand touched his face and Dante fought the urge to flinch. "You ain't the first person t' be bleedin' in this apartment, kid,

but you're definitely the first t' grow a set'a eyeballs back." He patted the young man's head.

"So." Dante touched the cloth on his eyes. "Why'd you help me? I mean, you and rat-voice were dumping a body wherever I was, weren't you?"

Enzo laughed. "Yeah, well, you know. Part of the job. But I never whacked a kid, and i'm not startin' now."

"'m'not a kid." Dante was indignant. He was 18, goddamnit.

"Ok, macho-man." Enzo said indulgently. "But I figure anyone runnin' around with a bloody sword ain't gonna cry too much about one dead stoolie."

"hng." Dante thought about this. He really didn't care what humans did to each other. That was their problem to sort out. "Point." he finally admitted.

"So. I'm Enzo." Dante felt the pressure of a big hand on his chest, lightly. "You got a name, junior, or I keep callin' you Snow White?"

"Up yours." Dante coughed a bit, and wiped at the dampness at his lip. "Dante."

"Good name. You read the "Divine Comedy" ever?" The bed shifted as Enzo stood.

"...no?" It sounded familiar, but he'd be knackered if he could remember what it was.

"Heh. you should. I'll loan you a copy when yer eyes finish fixin' themselves. Handy ability t'have, I might add."

Dante shrugged expansively. "It's my superpower."

"Riiiight. Look, Jun..er..Dante? I gotta go take care'a some business. Don't go messin' with anything, ok?"

"yeah. sure..." He thought about it for a long minute. "Enzo? Thanks."

"No problema, kiddo."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He had a constant headache now that his eyes were further along their repair route. The sporadic pains across his body had subsided a bit, at least, and Dante scrubbed his hands across his face in resignation.

He wasn't entirely sure he wanted to be indebted to the mob, but the man HAD brought him home, cleaned him up, and given him a place to heal. He couldn't deny that. Now that his vision was more-or-less back, he could see the room he'd been resting in. Fancy french or italian-style furniture that his parents both would've loved and Vergil would've mocked as gaudy. A surprising number of books. And alot... a WHOLE lot... of guns.

Gingerly, he slid out of the bed, bare feet sinking into the carpet. As he stood, the room tipped over and he faceplanted on the rug, cursing. Still not entirely up to par, he thought, slowly dragging himself to a kneel.

He was relieved his eyes HAD grown back, but this was a damn pain. He made a vow to never have to do this again.

Kneeling on the rug, he realized, as he simply hadn't before, that he was buck-ass-naked. It didn't bother him in any sense of embarrassment, but he felt vulnerable, especially since his sword was nowhere in his line of sight. Gingerly he made his way to the nearby desk, and pulled a gun off. A .38, well-kept, loaded.

He popped the chamber and spun it, pulling himself up into the chair.

He might be naked, but at least he was armed.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A search through Enzo's closet was disappointing. The man had alot of clothes, but he was easily twice Dante's girth and half-again his height. The dress shirt he'd put on fit him like an over-large nightshirt. (Crap.) But his dissection of Enzo's wardrobe was interrupted by the click of the bedroom doorknob. Dante spun,

still slightly unsteady, levelling the .38 at the door, looking at the enormous, hairy man in the dark suit standing there. Enzo, he could only assume, looked surprised, and held up a takeout container of soup.

"You know, that's a shitty way to thank somone for bringing you some dinner." But the man's eyes were deadly. "I told you not to mess with anything, kid."

"Don't think I don't appreciate it." Dante said calmly, lowering the gun. "I wasn't going to leave myself defenseless, though." He clicked the safety back on and padded towards Enzo, who gave him an up and down once-over.

"That's a cute look." The big man said finally, and handed Dante the soup.

"Shut up. Not my fault I couldn't find my clothes." He responded, sniffing the contents.

"They fucking stunk, Snow White. You're lucky I didn't burn 'em. They're gettin' cleaned." Enzo sat down at his desk, apparently satisfied that his houseguest hadn't disturbed any of the papers there.


	2. Chapter 2

Dante snorted and sat down inelegantly on the bed, sipping the soup from the container with one hand, setting the gun next to him with the other. Several beats of uncomfortable silence passed as he watched Enzo watching him. "Jeezus, man. Just ask already, ok?" He finally spat out.

Enzo laughed, harsh but genuine. "God, but you're a ballsy kid. Ok, then. I gotta admit. The deal with the sword?" He shrugged hugely.

Dante leaned an elbow on one bent knee and watched the steam rise from the soup for a moment. "God's got nothin' to do with me. I hunt demons." He said, pale eyes watching Enzo over the rim of the cup.

He was surprised when the big man didn't laugh or snort. "Huh." Was his first comment, sitting back in the plush office chair by the desk and steepling his fingers over the mound of muscle and flesh at his waist. "Interesting."

"Interesting?" Dante quirked an eybrow, absently fidgeting one foot as he watched Enzo.

"Lissen, Snow White, I've seen alot of weird shit in my day." He waved one hand then reached for a cigar. "Y'know. I'm thinking of something here."

"Joy." Dante tipped his head back, swallowing the remainder of the soup.

"Obviously, you've got some factors goin' on in your favor." He stuck the stogie in his mouth and hauled out of the chair to sit next to Dante on the bed. "But not for nothin, I'm guessing planning ain't one of them."

"Up yours." Dante muttered.

"Yeah, I thought. Listen, Dante." He leaned towards the young devil hunter. "I'm seeing a real niche market you can fill, if y'know what I mean."

"Niche market?" Dante scowled at him. "..the hell?"

"Seriously kid. The world is a seriously fucked up place. I see it all the time. There's definitely a place for ... someone who'll take on the tasks no one else'll." Enzo took a long drag, looking over Dante with an appraisers eye. "Someone like you."

"No offense, big man, but I don't have much interest in working for the Mob, y'know." Dante said coldly.

"This is strictly a business proposition between you an' me, Snow White..."

"Would you stop calling me that?"

Enzo continued as if he hadn't heard that. "I got alot of contacts who could help you with hunting the ghosts and demons. "

"And in return?"

"A share of your fee. Standard stuff."

"Fee." Dante suddenly cursed himself for being incredibly dense. "You want me to hunt for pay."

"Even freaky little devil hunters gotta eat, Snow White." Enzo said with perfect logic.

Dante hated when people did that to him. Hated when Vergil...

He sighed. "We can give it a shot. I have an idea for some better weapons.."

Enzo stubbed the cigar on a nearby ashtray. "I'll consider it... an investment." He looked the younger man over again, the oversized white dress shirt hanging open against fine, pale-copper skin. "Not very modest, are ya?"

"Got no reason to be." He knew the look creeping into the big man's eyes, as he shifted himself into an even more indecent sprawl.

Enzo snorted and reached out to trail a big hand down Dante's stomach, hissing when the young man's hand clamped around his wrist and moved it without any effort. "You're stronger than you look." He said, approvingly.

"It's another superpower." Dante said, closing the grip on his hand ever so slightly, watching Enzo mask a wince.

"I like you kid. Ain't no one like you in the whole world, I'd imagine." Enzo barked a harsh laugh, then quieted, thoughtful, watching the devil hunter's eyes harden and his lips compress into a tight line.

"That's not...wasn't always the case." (bastard.) He said flatly, suddenly sliding Enzo's calloused hand between his thighs. "You get this once."

"Consider it sealing a business deal? That's fine by me, Snow White."


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a bit pr0ny, this part.

Dante snorted in response, hissing when Enzo's rough fingers skimmed the soft flesh of his balls and pressed into his ass. "Ffffuck." He bucked a little in spite of himself.

"Why does it not surprise me that you like it rough?" Enzo murmured in Dante's ear, giving his fingers a sharp twist. There was a rasp of zipper by his free hand, and then Enzo fisted it in Dante's hair. "C'mere."

There was moment of tangled movement and Dante took him down his throat. (Not like it matters, much) - it certainly wouldn't've been the first time he did something like this, and he knew it wouldn't be the last. Except with Enzo. (**Once** That's it.) The man's cock tasted vaguely like cologne and even if he closed his eyes and imagined VERY hard, there was no way he could pretend it was anything except big sweaty mob dong. But he had to give the guy credit, he knew what to do with those hairy ham-hooks.

"Jezus, Snow White... you ever wanna give up monster huntin'..." Enzo groaned, guiding Dante upwards. "Get up here and sit on Santa's lap, kid."

Dante licked his lips. "You're a creepy freak, Enzo." he muttered, lowering himself onto the mobster's cock and wrapping his legs around his girth. "But.. fuck.. "

(fuck. that feels... not-so-bad.) He had to admit, pleasure growing in the pit of his belly. His fingers dug into the soft fabric of Enzo's blazer, and the sharp twinge of a belt buckle scraped against his cock. By the time he was on his back, doubled over and being jackhammered into the bed by the larger man, he'd simply stopped caring about the situation.

He came hard enough to not hear the ridiculous string of obscene blandishments the mobster was going on with before his own orgasm.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
Dante was mellow enough to not really care as his post-coital doze was broken by a heavy towel smacking him.

"Clean yourself up already, you lazy-ass." Enzo growled.

"Man. You sure know how to show a girl a good time, big guy." Dante sniped back, wiping himself clean. Somewhere in the tussling, the shirt he'd been wearing had gotten torn off and he'd been sprawled, languid and naked.

"Yeah, you don't know the half of it, Snow White." The mobster was back to smoking his stogie. "Gotcher clothes back. they still kinda stink." He jerked a thumb towards the folded pile of leather. "I suggest you get dressed."

"Mn." Dante stretched and padded over, sliding his pants on under Enzo's gaze. In the pocket, something pricked him, and he pulled the sharp-edged card out.

[Gunsmith: Tony Redgrave] in neat, raised printing on heavy paper. Dante quirked an eyebrow at the big man.

"Consider it my first investment in what I think is gonna be a beautiful partnership." Enzo spread his hands. "Whaddya think, Snow White?"

Dante flicked the card back in his pocket with a smirk. "Jackpot."

End


End file.
